


Archivolt

by pinkwinwin



Series: St. Clarity [2]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Angst, Established Relationship, M/M, Magical Realism, Witchcraft, slight mention of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 15:30:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18346496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkwinwin/pseuds/pinkwinwin
Summary: Even the potions swirling around his body can’t squash the uneasy feeling, the acidic feeling in his stomach that Ten can barely keep down. It’s difficult when he reads the passages depicting the agony, the physical changes he knows Johnny will have to go through. Words likefusionandblood extractionin the converted text, but a phrase in Latin stands out above all else.dolor caritate, the pain of love.





	Archivolt

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again, I'm back with more witches!
> 
> I feel like exploring Ten and Johnny in the St. Clarity universe is important, as it show a look into both of their characters as well as their relationship. The coven's arrival impacts more than just Sicheng, and hopefully this explains to some degree what other members of the trio are going through.
> 
> This is intended to be read after chapter 3 of St. Clarity, as I'll be making references to the events in that chapter. 
> 
>  
> 
> [St. Clarity visual thread](https://twitter.com/pinkwinwin/status/1079120229333008384)  
> [Spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/v4frua2n7tx8qeo696x7np5oz/playlist/12vIdPqu9gOHm9hdvE4LMq?si=sKknIhTMQ0iQl9QgJnuuJw)

Ten hasn’t felt this way in hundreds of years, but the impending doom of the coven’s return threatens him in a way that he can hardly form words for. It sits in a chair in the corner of the room, staring him down and threatening the life he’s built up for himself. He can feel it in the way he holds Johnny’s hand a little tighter, how his fingers shake when locking the door and they feel cold as ice when carding through Donghyuck’s hair in the early morning hours.

 

He buries these thoughts down deep, instead wearing the same smirk across his face like the rings on his fingers, shiny and eye-catching but terribly delicate. He wants to keep his home a sanctuary of sorts, a place where he can feel that Donghyuck is safe and Johnny isn’t aware of how fragile his heart feels, how his mind seems to be holding on just enough until something snaps inside of him. A part of him wishes Xiaojun had never arrived, that he had never stumbled into Doyoung’s dining room with his blood-soaked clothes and a warning on his lips like poison. Ten doesn’t want to admit that seeing him was a sort of relief, that the people he once held close to him actually exist in some capacity— even if the robes of his coven have long since been packed away.

 

There is something he likes to call his New Normal, the time after the warning presence of the coven where he becomes more protective of his makeshift family. His smile around Donghyuck is a little bit brighter once they return home, like a lamp on too high of a setting to be natural. He wants it to be convincing enough, and Ten tells himself it is when Johnny asks Donghyuck if he wants to read together in the study. They toe out of their shoes and Johnny clamps a hand on the younger boy’s back, leading him into the far room with a smile.

 

Ten is grateful for this, as it gives him time to hole himself in his work room and pour over every text he can find, to craft potion after potion until the skin under his fingernails are stained with pomegranate extract and smell like blue skullcap. He only emerges from the space when the sun has long since set and the candles lining his desk are melted down to the base.

 

Ten rounds the corner towards the living room, but he stops short in the entryway when he sees the sight before him. On the couch just below the window, Donghyuck is sprawled out and covering his face with the crook of his arm, a spell book he had been studying laying open on the hardwood floor. Johnny is next to the armchair in the corner, and he takes the blanket tossed across it in his hands.

 

He treads carefully towards Donghyuck, and Ten leans against the wall in order to take in the moment. Johnny leans down, draping the blanket across Donghyuck’s body and smoothing down his hair with one hand. He then reaches over, switching the light off and picking up the spell book, placing it delicately on the side table before leaving Donghyuck to sleep.

 

Johnny is surprised when he sees Ten in the entry, but his shoulders relax and he smiles after a moment. He kisses Ten’s forehead, moving to stand behind him. “Didn’t realize you were here.” “I wasn’t going to interrupt that.” Ten hums, resting his hand over Johnny’s from where they snake around his waist. He thinks back to Xiaojun, recovering in one of the countless rooms in Doyoung’s home and he frowns. “What is it?” Johnny asks, feeling Ten tense underneath his grasp. Ten sighs, leaning his head back against Johnny’s shoulder.

 

“What if they want Donghyuck for something?” Ten asks quietly, as if he’s afraid to even consider it. The implication sits heavy in his heart. “What if he isn’t safe?”

 

“He will be,” Johnny replies easily, tightening his hold on Ten. “We’ll make sure he is.” The two of them are silent for a moment as they weigh the scenarios in their head, but a sigh escapes Ten’s lips.

 

“We sound like his parents,” he whispers, and Johnny chuckles at this.

 

“Aren’t we?” he asks, pressing a kiss to Ten’s temple. “We should let him sleep.” Ten hums in agreement, and the pair climb the stairs to their shared bedroom. Johnny sinks down on the foot of the bed with a yawn, unbuttoning his shirt and letting it slip to the floor. Ten circles the room, pulling the curtains tightly over the windows and switching on the bedside lamp. He pads into the bathroom, but even a splash of cool water against his face won’t shake the thoughts from his mind.

 

Every time he closes his eyes, Xiaojun’s features carved into a severe frown greets him. Ten thinks of the blood soaking his clothes so heavily they stick to his frame, he thinks of the grave tone of Xiaojun’s voice when he tells Sicheng about the coven’s plans. He knows it is a warning, and as Ten stares at his reflection in the mirror he knows the only thing he can do is prepare for what’s next.

 

He returns after a change of clothes to find Johnny still perched at the end of the bed, a book bound in leather between his hands. A ball of light hovers in front of him as a makeshift reading light, and Johnny points a finger to keep it steady as Ten walks by. He kneels on the bed behind Johnny and rubs his shoulders reassuringly, and a small smile tugs at his lips when Johnny leans into the touch and heaves a gentle sigh. “Don’t you ever take time off?” Ten asks, subtle sense of amusement coating his words. Johnny leans back further, doing his best to look into Ten’s eyes.

 

“Can’t afford to,” he replies, letting his eyes slide shut for a moment. He looks peaceful, Ten thinks, with his long lashes casting shadows across his cheeks in the warm glow of the light. His voice is quieter when he speaks again. “I need to catch up with you.”

 

Ten laughs at this, scrunching up his nose and squeezing Johnny’s shoulders before returning to his gentle massage. “Like you could ever be as good as me.” Johnny smiles at this, opening his eyes again and looking right at Ten.

 

“I can try.”

 

Johnny turns back to the book, his brow furrowing and his fingers scanning the pages every so often. Ten stays with him, eventually wrapping his arm around Johnny’s waist and resting his chin on his shoulder. It isn’t until the late night hours that Johnny stops, and Ten can’t help but feel as if this is his way of calming himself, that Johnny is striving to be a better witch for his and Donghyuck’s sake.

 

The thought sticks with Ten, making his insides turn to ice and his hands tremble. He tries to put his fears aside, but the way Johnny leans in for a kiss before going to bed stays in his mind. It should be comforting, but instead it’s haunting. Even after the covers are peeled back and the lights are switched off, Ten can’t help the storm brewing in his mind.

 

✞

 

Some days Ten is grateful for the fact that Donghyuck has to study under the supervision of Sicheng, and it’s mornings like this that make him say a silent thanks to his friend. The second he walks through the front door, he can feel his shoulders sag and a sigh escape his lips. He toes out of his shoes and slips off his jacket, not even bothering to pick it up as it falls to the floor. Padding into the bathroom, he opens up the cabinet under the sink and produces several bottles, the liquid swirling with shimmering gold flakes.

 

He lets the bathwater run, gentle steam tendrils reaching up into the air that turn shades of pink and purple when he pours some of the potions in. He hums contently when a cloud of smoke puffs out from the bathwater, filling the small space with the scent of rose and raspberry. He sets the bottles on the counter, stripping down and slipping into the tub. The potions immediately seep into his skin, wiping his mind of all stress and working out the knots in his muscles.

 

There’s a certain solace in this room, one that Ten made sure was his own personal space. Not that he would mind of Johnny or even Donghyuck wanted to use the space, but there are times where Ten feels the urge to get away from it all. He likes the act of locking the door and admiring the decorations, of spare crystals lining the shelves docked close to the ceiling.

 

He takes comfort in the potted devil’s ivy by the window and how it reaches out to snake across the sill, how dried herbs hang from the ceiling and windchimes catch the morning light as it filters through the window. Ten smiles fondly at the sight of the phases of the moon, painted by his own hand delicately over the mirror and laced with silver paint.

 

Ten lets the mixture take effect over his body and mind until he feels calm enough. He motions towards the stack of books by the window and the one on the top floats towards him. It hovers in the space above the tub, and Ten can make out it’s worn edges. With a flick of his finger the pages flip dramatically until it lands on a passage halfway through, the words _FORMAL BINDING CEREMONY_ seeming to float off the center of the page. Ten chews on his bottom lip as he reads, taking in the information and trying not to picture the implications too deeply.

 

He knows it’s supposed to be a good thing, and it mostly is. Formally joining together with Johnny, a bond recognized even in the highest levels of covens, is something they have planned for years. They’ve known from early on in their relationship that this was their goal, that they wanted the world to understand just how committed they were to each other.

 

He just wishes it wasn’t such an ugly path to get there.

 

Even the potions swirling around his body can’t squash the uneasy feeling, the acidic feeling in his stomach that Ten can barely keep down. It’s difficult when he reads the passages depicting the agony, the physical changes he knows Johnny will have to go through. Words like _fusion_ and _blood extraction_ in the converted text, but a phrase in Latin stands out above all else.

 

 _dolor caritate_ , the pain of love.

 

Ten eventually drags himself out of the tub when he hears Johnny downstairs, the familiar shifting of books being pulled off the shelf. He dresses in something simple, smiling when the soft sensation of one of Johnny’s shirt slides across his chest. He tosses the towel used to dry his still-damp hair on the ground, padding out of the room and down the snaking staircase. The sensation of sunlight against the hardwood floors is warm, but he knows of something warmer as he spots Johnny by the bookcase. Ten wraps his arms around Johnny and hugs him from behind, sliding his eyes shut and taking in his body heat for a moment. Johnny hums, twisting his body until he has Ten tucked into the center of his chest. His arm wraps tightly around his frame, his other hand gripping a book taken from Sicheng’s collection.

 

“I almost mistook you for someone else in this shirt,” Johnny muses, leaning back and cupping Ten’s face with his large hand. He thumbs over his cheek until Ten’s eyes open and he looks at Johnny skeptically.

 

He hums, leaning into Johnny’s touch before asking “don’t tell me you’ve fallen for another conjuring witch?” Johnny laughs, bringing his thumb forward to touch the tip of Ten’s nose.

 

“No, I can barely handle one of you,” he replies with a sigh. Ten scrunches up his nose and pushes the larger man away, but Johnny holds firm and pulls him close to his chest once again. He kisses the top of Ten’s head, noticing the faint scent of raspberries drifting from his damp hair.

 

“Mm, good job getting that shampoo spell to smell nicer,” he says, inhaling the scent once again. He feels Ten’s slender fingers knot in the back of his t-shirt.

 

“Thank you” Ten mumbles in reply, his face half-buried in the fabric. He inhales deeply, taking in the scent of musk and old books and fountain pen ink. It’s all so _Johnny_ , it feels like home. Eventually he tears himself away, scanning the room until his eyes land on the stack of old books perched on their coffee table. The one on top catches Ten’s eyes, the bound leather inscribed in silver lettering. He walks over to it, tracing the title with his finger.

 

“I can’t believe he let us use that,” Johnny says, and Ten doesn’t have to look at him to know he’s smiling. Ten picks up the book in his hands, cradling it carefully.

 

“Of course he did,” Ten replies quietly, “who else would use it but us?” His breath hitches when Johnny stands behind him, covering his hands with his own. Together their hands brush over the engraving, of a language so old only Sicheng has even the slightest chance of understanding it. Ten does know this, however: it is a prayer book, rarely shared unless a couple is striving to be bound eternally.

 

✞

 

Ten doesn’t sleep much.

 

It’s always been that way, at least for the past few hundred years. He would rather spend the late night hours working on new spells or some other busy work, but now more than ever Ten finds himself greeting the sunrise while Johnny lays tucked in bed. Tonight is no different.

 

It feels like as good of a time as any, to relive his old memories. Ten tells himself it’s therapeutic, to drag himself out of bed and onto the cold floor where he clutches the trunk to his chest. It feels like ice, the metal adornments lining each corner making the box look menacing. Ten doesn’t bother to look at it closely, instead ripping it open and letting the dusty smell of its contents roll over him like a wave. He thumbs over the loose pages scribbled with spells, of old trinkets taken from members who were too weak to go on. Ten wonders if he’ll sense their memories if he stares at them too long, if he’ll remember the light fading from their eyes as he hovered over them.

 

He doesn’t like to think too much of those events, of members buried in some unmarked grave countless years ago.

 

Ten pulls out various memories all tied to physical objects, letting the past wash over him and allowing him to _feel,_ for the first time in what feels like a lifetime. His slender fingers brush against cloth, and he takes a deep breath. He pulls the fabric out of the trunk, letting the inky black drape over him like a shadow as he squeezes his eyes closed. He doesn’t want to see it, but he can feel the weight of the crest embroidered over the heart.

 

The insignia stares back at him unwaveringly, threatening his very being.

 

Ten hears the sound of covers shifting but he makes no effort to pull himself off the floor. Johnny doesn’t bother to hold him, knowing that kneeling on the floor next to him is enough. The words fall out of Ten’s mouth like they’ve been waiting for his arrival, waiting to shatter the house of cards that Ten has built for himself over the past century.

 

“This life is not afforded to people like me.”

 

Johnny says nothing, merely tilts open the lid of the trunk. The moonlight shines through the window where the curtains haven’t been pulled tightly enough, shining across Ten’s face. It’s screwed up in agony, hands clenched into fists where they grasp his coven robes. Ten throws them back into the trunk, slamming it shut and draping his body over it like he’s afraid its content will come crawling out themselves.

 

“I’m weak,” he whispers, nails splintering into the wood where he grips the trunk and he sobs. He sobs unabashedly, tears blurring his vision and shaking his ribcage like a storm even when Johnny pries him off of the surface. He cradles him close to his chest, Ten’s legs dangling over his left arm as he carries him back to bed. Johnny stands at the foot of their bed until his crying subsides, and Ten doesn’t even know how long it has been. It feels like hours, it feels like years, but something that Johnny says quells the storm in his chest.

 

“Love is not a weakness.” Ten is so shocked his tears stop flowing, drying in tracks down his face.  


“What?” he asks quietly. Johnny hums softly in response, making his way to Ten’s side of the bed and pulling back the covers. He lowers Ten’s body into the mattress, smoothing down his hair and climbing in beside him.

 

“Never mistake love for weakness,” he speaks again, pressing his lips to the crown of Ten’s head. He pulls the covers tightly over both of them, wrapping his arms around Ten’s frame. “I have never met someone who loves so fiercely, who would do anything for me.” Ten sighs at this, gripping onto the front of Johnny’s shirt as he whispers. “They will never take that away from you.”

 

“What if they try?” Ten replies, holding Johnny so close he can smell the musk and fountain pen ink. Johnny’s answer comes easy, like it was injected into his veins and spilling from his lungs like air.

 

“I won’t let them.”

 

And that’s the reality of it, that Ten will have his moments of weakness and Johnny will come and mend him back together like fixing a broken statue with liquid gold. He is brightness in all the spaces where Ten fears he’s nothing but shadows. In the morning he will push the trunk back into its spot under their bed, and he will offer Ten that same breathtaking smile, just as he does every morning.

 

For that, Ten is eternally grateful.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Comments and kudos are appreciated ♡
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> [Twitter](twitter.com/pinkwinwin)   
>  [Curious Cat](curiouscat.me/pinkwinwin)


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